Art and the Dying Heart
by Poppy471
Summary: When you grow up, your heart dies. Or does it? Allison searches for an escape from this inevitability. Rated T for a little drug use and language. Allison/Bender.
1. Lady Parts

_Author's Note: In the early 1980s, cable was new and not everyone had it. Therefore MTV tended to be a group activity, with most people excited to go to a friend's house to see it. _

**Chapter One**

**Lady Parts**

Allison has already arrayed her purse and sketchbook on the back table when Bender enters the library for detention. She doesn't know what to expect. Monday had been such a mess and she hasn't seen Bender up close since that fateful Monday.

Bender takes off his sunglasses and gives her a wry smile.

"This seat taken? Sporto joining us?"

Allison gestures to the empty chair. "No, just me. Andy has a match today."

"So _Andrew_," he says the name with a sneer, "stayed true?"

"Yes. I'm sorry about Claire, Bender."

"No biggie. Not like Red is the only girl around."

Allison really is sorry, but not surprised. She always knew Claire was the weak link.

"How's the Dweeb?" Bender asks.

"He's fine. We're meeting at five thirty to watch MTV at my house. You want to join us?"

"Sure, I got some time. I can hang for a little while."

His off-hand response doesn't fool Allison.

"What are you doing here? What did you get busted for?" Bender asks.

"Lewd drawings."

"Oh yeah?" He sounds interested. "Let's see."

She opens her sketch book to a detailed drawing of a vagina, and shows it to him. After a moment, Bender seems to realize his mouth is open and shuts it. Why does a simple vagina horrify people so much? Guys draw penises all the time. Sexism.

"Well, Al, you certainly know how to pick a subject." Bender looks some more. "You know, that's pretty good. Who caught you?" He seems to have regained his composure.

"Madame Morel."

His smile grows into a wicked grin. "What did she do?"

"She started talking in French and had to sit down. Then she sent me to Vernon."

"I guess drawing..." He searches for an appropriate word, "lady parts... is better than telling the vice principal to eat your shorts."

"It's a vagina. You can use the proper name." She's tired of people making a vagina a shameful thing.

"Whatever." He tips his chair back on two legs, apparently through with the subject.

Allison closes her sketchbook and stows it in her purse. She jumps when the front legs of his chair slam back down. "Wait! You're not... But, you and Andy..." Bender stops, flummoxed. His discomposure is amusing. It takes a lot to surprise Bender.

"Look, are you queer?" He finally asks.

"Drawing a vagina makes me queer?" She laughs.

"Well, I dunno, does it? I mean, are you?" She's never seen Bender's face go through so many expressions so quickly. This is fun. "Hey, it's cool with me. I don't care if you are."

It's nice to know Bender would accept her, but she should stop teasing him.

"No, I'm not a lesbian. I just thought it would be a challenge."

"How does Andy feel about you drawing... um... well, that?"

He can't say the word. Really, it's ridiculous.

"He doesn't know yet, just that I was caught drawing in class. But it's none of his business what I choose to draw. If he doesn't like vaginas, that's his problem."

"I'm pretty sure he likes them." Bender leers at her.

Vernon walks in at this point, to Allison's relief. She doesn't want to be the object of Bender's juvenile jokes.

Vernon now keeps a supply of spare screws in his desk, so they must be obedient. No closed door to save them from Vernon's constant scrutiny. Bender settles himself for a nap and nods off immediately. Allison tries to work on her sketch of a tree, but she too succumbs to sleep.

Eventually the tedious day is over and they are released at five.

"Where you live, Al?" Bender asks when they are on the front steps of the school.

"A few blocks away, in the Heights."

"Ooh la la, have we got a richie here? What's a weirdo like you doing in the Heights?" Bender wants to know.

She hates living in the Heights. All her mother and father care about is what the neighbors think, and none of the neighbors think well of Allison. But as her parents are rarely home, it doesn't affect her daily life much. She, Andy and Brian hang out at her house a lot for that reason: no parents to worry about. And Allison has cable TV, with all the channels.

When they arrive at the house and Allison leads the way in, Bender looks around curiously. He picks up a small Buddha sitting on a side table. He inspects it, turning it upside down as if he might find an explanation on the bottom. While Bender is making his investigations, Brian rings the doorbell.

Brian does a good job of covering his surprise at seeing Bender, but when Bender's back is turned, he flashes his eyes in Bender's direction, a question on his face. Allison shrugs.

As they always do on Saturday nights, Allison orders pizza. Considering her extra guest, she decides to order two; and is glad she did. Bender engulfs half a pizza by himself. He hadn't brought lunch to detention.

They eat their pizza in the Reynolds' well equipped den. Bender makes disgusted noises and boos most of the videos, but seems to be enjoying himself. At seven, they switch to HBO for a spy movie. Allison keeps expecting Bender to take off, assuming he has friends to spend the evening with, going to a party or something, but he stays through the entire movie and seems in no hurry to leave afterward. Indeed, he is still there when it is time for Brian to leave.

Wanting to get to the bottom of the mystery, Allison decides to jump right in with direct interrogation.

"Why aren't you at a heavy metal vomit party with your friends?"

"Well..." He seems to be debating something within himself. "I'll tell ya, Al. I don't have much in the way of friends these days."

"What happened?" He had been so devoted to his friends during detention.

"Crystal is what happened."

"Crystal is a girl?"

"Crystal meth. Amphetamines. Speed." When this doesn't seem to answer her question, Bender says, "Drugs. Bad drugs."

"Oh. I'm sorry, Bender."

"Yeah, well, it happens. I guess I better go. Before your folks get home."

* * *

><p>Sunday, Andy is back from his match and he is as surprised as Allison and Brian at Bender resurfacing.<p>

"I think I might know what happened." Andy apparently has thought this over. "I saw Bender walking up when Claire was making fun of you and I was telling her to shove it. He looked at us and turned around and walked away. I think he thought Claire and I were being friendly."

"But when it was obvious you had told her to piss off, why did he still stay away?" Brian asks. They are hanging out on the Reynolds' covered patio, lounging on cushioned lawn furniture.

"He had his heavy metal friends. He didn't need us," Allison says. "Plus he doesn't like admitting he's wrong."

"It's not so cool to show up after all this time, now that he has no one. Like, he was too good for us before, but now that he doesn't have anyone else, we're OK." Andy says.

"Think about it, Andy. He's just watched all his friends decide to kill themselves with drugs." Allison always looks for the compassionate side of things. "Plus, he didn't butt in. I invited him."

"He's pretty funny. You should have seen his impression of Madonna," Brian says.

"I think we should give him a chance," says Allison. Andy looks skeptical. "C'mon Andy, losing all your friends at once has got to be awful. Give him a chance."

"Okay. He gets one chance. We'll see what happens."

* * *

><p>What happens is that Allison invites Bender to eat lunch at their table in the cafeteria. He looks very self conscious when he appears. He's empty handed. No bag lunch and no cafeteria tray. He seats himself with a swirl of his overcoat and affects nonchalance.<p>

"Sporto. Dweeb." Bender greets them. "Hey, Al." He pulls an extra chair over and props up his booted feet.

Brian must have noticed Bender's lack of lunch, because he says, "Anybody want this soup? My mom gave me too much today."

"No, thanks Brian. I've got pizza," Allison says, and she gives Andy a kick under the table.

"Oh." It takes a bit for Andy to understand. "No, man, I'm good. My mom sends too much too. She thinks I'm an army."

"Bender, you want it?" Brian asks. "I don't want it to go to waste."

"Sure, I guess I'll take it." Somehow Bender makes it seem like he is the one doing Brian the favor, which is what Brian was aiming for. When Andy offers his bag of donuts around, Allison takes one to encourage Bender to do the same. No wonder he's so grouchy all the time, if he's always hungry. Allison resolves to think of him when packing her lunch tomorrow morning.

* * *

><p><em>AN: I'll do my best to update every Thursday.<em>


	2. Career Counseling

**Chapter Two**

**Career Counseling**

Allison and Andy are juniors, so it's time to start thinking about making choices and sending out college applications. Andy knows what he wants- a sports scholarship from either UI or Wisconsin State, with Iowa as a back up plan. All three have good wrestling teams and offer sports science majors.

Allison is puzzled. Andy knows what he wants to do, coach high school students. But what does she want to do? She's not particularly good at anything academic and doesn't have a dream job like Andy does. Brian is wavering between being a doctor or doing medical research. Even Bender knows what he wants. He plans on being a mechanic.

The only thing she really cares about is art, but her art teacher seems lukewarm about Allison applying to the Art Institute. Mr. Purdue has encouraged Henry Mays to create a portfolio and apply to several art schools. Surely if she were any good, Mr. Purdue would be doing the same with her. Andy has encouraged her to get an elementary school or high school teaching degree, but is that something she wants? She has to admit, not really, but what else can she do?

Allison knows her mother wanted to go to art school when she was younger, but she put that aside to become a lawyer. Lying on the floor on her stomach, grasping her ankles in a yoga position, Allison contemplates this. Her parents make a lot of money, but it doesn't seem to make them very happy. She knows very few happy adults. Why is that? She believes that with most people, their hearts die when they force themselves into the shape of an adult. She knows only two really happy adults. Mrs. Clark seems very content teaching elementary school and being a mother. Ginger, who owns Allison's favorite store for Indian imports and runs a yoga studio in back, always appears very happy. They both radiate warmth and acceptance. They are both very kind to her as well.

What do they have in common? They are very different people. Mrs. Clark is as conventional as she can imagine, Ginger just the opposite. They both do what they love, though. Ginger loves yoga and Mrs. Clark loves children. Now that she thinks of it, her doctor seems pretty happy, too. Dr. Robinson is always smiling, always pleased to see Allison. She loves medicine.

Fuck it. Allison releases her ankles and relaxes into the crocodile position. Chin propped on her arms, she decides to go for what she loves. She will apply to the Art Institute. Mr. Purdue is a mean old man anyway. He is one of the most unhappy adults she knows. She resolves to ask Hashimoto how to get an application to the Art Institute.

* * *

><p>Allison writes to the Art Institute requesting information and an application and sits back to wait for its arrival. Hashimoto assures her it won't take long, and it doesn't. A week later, she has the application packet in hand. There are several steps. First are SAT scores, high school transcripts and an essay about the creation and execution of an original work with a slide of the work. Next is a portfolio in slide form. Finally there is an interview.<p>

She is flipping through the packet of information at lunch the next day.

"Watcha got there, Allison?" asks Brian.

She sighs. The glossy brochures are intimidating. They list so many classes she would die to take, and are full of pictures of spacious work areas and professional exhibits. And students, individuals, people who each dress in a unique way, not like Claire and her friends. Laughing and having fun. It looks like heaven.

To answer Brian's question, she holds up one of the brochures with the name of the school.

"Wow, you want to go to the Art Institute? They're the best."

Brian knows about colleges and universities. This doesn't encourage her; it now seems even more formidable. Why is she crazy enough to think they might accept her? She folds up the brochures and carefully inserts them into the large envelope they came in and tucks the packet in her purse.

"That would be awesome. When are the applications due?"

"In six weeks. June first." That seems so close. Then it occurs to her. "Hey, Brian, can you help me with my application essay?"

Brian looks flattered. "Sure, Allison. Let me see the assignment."

They are deep in discussion of the essay when Bender and Andy show up. Once Andy understands what they are talking about, he frowns.

"I thought you were going to get a teaching certificate?" He asks.

Bender is rummaging through Brian's lunch, but everyone ignores this.

"I changed my mind, Andy. I don't want to be a teacher."

"You can teach art. You heard what my mom said about-"

"Your mom loves kids and loves teaching. I love creating art. I'm not going let my heart die when I grow up."

Brian is following this exchange like a tennis match.

"But how will you ever make money being an artist? And that school is so hard to get into. And how would you pay for tuition?"

"Andy, I don't care. This is what I want more than anything in the world and I'm not going to shove myself into some shape I hate."

Bender, kicked back with his chair on two legs, says through a mouthful of PB&J, "I think Al is right." He swallows. "She's an artist the way you're an athlete and the way the brain here is a brain. She can't succeed if she doesn't try."

"What do you know?" Andy demands. "You have no ambition. You're a senior and you still have no plans. You're not an expert on career counseling."

"Au contraire, my friend. I know exactly what I want and how to do it. My Uncle Phil has an auto shop and I can work for him, become a certified mechanic. He says if I do well, he'll cut me in on the business. None of his kids are interested in mechanics."

Allison is surprised. She had no idea Bender had such good prospects. No wonder he cares so little about grades. He won't need good grades to work for his uncle.

"I agree with Bender," Brian says. "Allison is an amazing artist. She needs to try."

"But-" Andy begins.

Allison interrupts him. "Andy, you don't understand. I have to do this." Having Bender and Brian back her up bolsters her resolve.

"You're making a mistake, Allison."

"Fine. Leave me alone to make my own mistakes by myself. I'm not changing my mind." She glares at Andy. "Go on. Leave me alone. Go live your own safe life and find a nice, safe girl to do it with."

Andy just stands there.

"I said, Go! Get out of here." Allison stamps her foot.

Brian's mouth is hanging open, but Bender looks on, unperturbed.

"I'd go, if I were you, Sport," Bender advises.

Andy snatches up his bag and storms off.

Brian hovers next to Allison while she cries, unsure what to do. Bender leans forward.

"That's the best thing you could have done, Al," he says. "Either he'll come around, or he's someone you don't need in your life."


	3. Gallery Navet

**Chapter Three**

**Gallery Navet**

"Hey Allison! Look at this!" Brian is waving a flier.

He hands it to her and looks on while she reads it, his face flushed with delight. Allison's face goes white. She looks up.

"Where did you get this?" Allison asks.

"A bunch were tacked on the activities board. I was checking the next Latin Club meeting."

Bender arrives and asks, "Whatcha got there, Al? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"It's an art competition." She goes back to studying it. "Brian, you said there were a bunch of these?"

"Yeah, right there on the board. Why?"

"I just had art class and Mr. Purdue didn't say anything about it to me."

But she does remember him talking to Henry Mays. Fucker. Why is Henry Mays so special? All of his art is boring, still life and portraits. She's ten times the artist where creativity is concerned. Henry Mays has never had an original thought in his life.

Paying closer attention, she notes the cut off date for entering pieces. Monday morning. It's Wednesday today. She better get busy. She already knows what she'll enter. Her death watch beetle. She just needs to finish inking it.

Now she notices the sponsor and the award. First prize is $150 and having the piece displayed at Gallery Navet. The Art Institute is one of the sponsors.

A rush of details descend on her. How long will it take to ink it? How will she mount it? And how can she get it to Gallery Navet? She doesn't have the money to buy the mounting supplies. Where can she get that? And when can she get to the art supply store?

"Brian, you have to lend me twenty dollars." She announces this abruptly.

"Sure, Allison. I can do that. But what does that have to do with the contest?"

She stops her whirling brain and looks at Brian. "I'm sorry, Brian. Please. I need supplies and I need them fast."

"No problem. I have it right here." He gets out his wallet and withdraws two fives and a ten.

"Thank you, Brian!" She takes the money, kisses his cheek and bolts off, purse swinging.

* * *

><p>Twenty dollars is more than she needs for the backing and the mounting medium, so she buys a cheap cardboard portfolio, to protect her work in transit. She cuts her last class to get to the store before closing. Her purchases are awkward on the bus, but she gets them home and up to her room. Then she begins the painstaking inking process. It takes three nights to get it inked and mounted. At one o'clock Saturday morning she sits back, exhausted, and admires the finished product. It is a very realistic and detailed drawing of a death watch beetle on the center of a pocket watch face, with the fob chain dangling. The beetle points to two o'clock. She carefully weights it with an atlas so it will remain flat once the mounting medium dries.<p>

She sleeps for a few hours, then rises to take the bus to Gallery Navet. She arrives ten minutes before they open. She spends her time waiting looking at some wire sculptures displayed in the windows. At eleven on the dot, a woman unlocks the glass door and opens it wide to admit Allison and her portfolio. The woman has short red hair that sticks up in odd directions and bright blue eyes. She's dressed in paint spattered jeans and a black t-shirt.

"Hi, you must be here for the student competition. I'm Nora." She holds out her hand, then looks at it. "Sorry, paint everywhere. Consider your hand shaken. You'll need to carry that for me, I don't want to get paint on your piece. Follow me."

She leads Allison past several displays of oil paintings and through a door marked "Employees Only." They enter a large, strangely unfinished room with paintings and portfolios standing in raw pine racks and leaning against the walls. At first glance it looks confused but upon inspection, there is order to the madness.

"You have your name on your portfolio and your piece?"

Allison nods, too nervous to speak.

"What medium is it?"

"Pen and ink."

"Okay," says Nora. "Lean it right there, next to the green portfolio."

"When will they be judged?" Allison asks, her voice shaking a little.

"Monday afternoon, and the winners will be announced Monday night. It will start at six." Nora looks at her and says, "Bring a friend or two. There will be free wine and cheese."

Allison doesn't know how she can possibly wait until Monday evening. Almost three days!

Nora escorts her out of the back room and Allison finds the courage to say, "You have a beautiful space here."

"Oh, it's not mine. Vince Navet is the owner. I just help out. I'm still a student."

"Where are you studying?" Allison asks. Exhaustion seems to lend her courage in talking to an actual gallery employee.

"The Art Institute. MFA program." She looks at Allison again and says, "Master of Fine Arts. The graduate program. You're at Shermer High?"

Allison nods.

"I went there too, class of '79. Is it still full of stuck up richies and jocks?"

A snort escapes Allison. "Yes."

"It gets better in college. Take my word for it."

* * *

><p>Allison calls Brian when she gets home to report success, then falls into a deep, dreamless sleep.<p> 


	4. Death Watch

**Chapter Four**

**Death Watch**

As usual, Brian comes over that Saturday night to eat pizza and watch MTV, then an HBO movie. Andy used to join them, but tonight Bender comes instead. He lights up on his way over and is in a hilarious mood when he arrives, and vacuums up half a pizza. Allison has to admit, he is more fun than Andy ever was. He does great impersonations and has comical observations about the music videos. Tonight Allison has to wake him when the movie is over. His face, softened by sleep, looks younger. Then he orients himself and puts on his Bender face, looking tough and sarcastic once more. Allison feels like she's touched some deeper part of him, seeing him unguarded and vulnerable like that. It makes something inside her turn over.

* * *

><p>She can hardly sleep Sunday night and frets all day Monday about her clothing choice for the gallery, how they are going to get there, wondering if she could possibly win. Brian and Bender are both accompanying her, for which she is glad; taking the bus at night makes her nervous. Finally school is over, dinner consumed, clothing donned, and she is on her way to the bus stop, to meet Bender and Brian. The jolting bus ride gives her time to realize exactly how wound up she is. Bender and Brian are talking about sports, something she knows nothing about, so she sits silently.<p>

When they enter the brightly lit gallery, Allison at least feels okay about her clothes. She chose a plain black dress and fits right in. There is wine and cheese, as promised. She and Bender pour themselves glasses of white wine, but Brian, disapproving of underage drinking, gets a coke for himself. They start a circuit of the room containing the competition pieces. Some are obviously high school student products, but many are quite professional. Her own work is up, hanging between an oil painting of a vase of peonies and a charcoal sketch of a pair of ballet shoes.

"This is yours?" Bender wants to know.

"Yes, it's a death watch beetle."

"You're a strange girl, Al."

"It's really well executed, Allison," Brian says, obviously impressed. "And the play on words is clever."

As they move on, Bender observes,"This wine is okay, once you get used to it," They view several more pieces, then hear someone calling the room to order. Allison crowds into the main space, eager to hear them announce the winners. A small man stands up on an impromptu wooden box. He's saying stuff she can't hear over the murmuring of the crowd. Then the crowd finally falls silent as he holds up a sheet of paper.

"Our third prize goes to Thomas Deal, for his entry 'Dark Rooms.' Thomas, come up here." The crowd parts to allow a young man approach the gallery owner. Mr. Navet hands him an envelope and shakes his hand. The crowd applauds politely.

"Our second prize goes to Jerri Kern, for her entry 'Looking Glass Falls.' Miss Kern, please come up." Another envelope and another handshake, more polite applause.

"Finally, our first prize award goes to a young lady, a Shermer High junior, Miss Allison Reynolds. Her pen and ink drawing, 'Death Watch,' can be seen here at Gallery Navet for the next week, along with those of the other prize winners. Miss Reynolds, congratulations." Bender has propelled her up to the front of the crowd and gives her a little shove into the clear area around Mr. Navet. In a daze, she accepts her envelope and handshake.

Bender leads her back into the crowd, which is dispersing. Brian tries to shake her hand, but the envelope is in the way. Bender takes it and tucks it into his jean jacket inner pocket. A good thing too. Many people want to shake her hand. Then she is being steered toward her drawing so that a photo can be taken for the newspaper. As she stands up straight and smiles for the camera, she sees Henry Mays and Mr. Purdue. She smiles even more.


	5. Forbidden

**Chapter Five**

**Forbidden**

When Allison enters the art classroom, the first thing she sees is Mr. Purdue and Henry Mays in deep discussion. They look up and she waves cheerily. She enjoys their venomous stares more than she would have enjoyed honest congratulations. It burns her that Mr. Purdue has favored Henry and discouraged her, when she knows she is a better artist. She was unsure of this until Bender and Brian defended her choices when she was arguing with Andy. Winning the Gallery Navet prize confirms it. She won, on a fair and level playing field. Allison has never had a competitive bone in her body, but now she yearns to triumph over Henry Mays. She will earn a place at the Art Institute. If he does not, that will make her success even sweeter.

Lunch that day is very cheerful; Brian and Bender partake in her pleasure. But by the end of the day, she is serious again. What piece shall she use for her application? She has done several independent pieces in pen and ink, major projects. She could use any one of them. She needs to decide so she can start her essay.

Allison is so preoccupied with her choice of drawings she doesn't notice her mother's car in the driveway, so her mother's voice surprises her. She is even more surprised to hear her own name. Her mother never speaks to her, except to criticize her clothes or hair or makeup, always invoking the horrible "What will the neighbors think?" question.

Allison enters the kitchen and sees her mother sitting at the kitchen table, with the Art Institute brochures spread out in front of her. Her heart sinks. This doesn't look good.

"You will not apply to this college. You will attend UIC for pre-law or pre-med. That is what your father and I will condone. None of this art nonsense."

This is so bizarre, Allison makes no response. She's never discussed college with her parents, and now suddenly she is given this pronouncement? Allison as a doctor or lawyer? The idea is crazy.

Her mother deliberately picks up the application form and tears it in half.

"I don't want to hear any more on this topic." Allison hasn't even spoken.

Her mother rises and leaves the room, brochures and application in hand.

What will Allison do now?

* * *

><p>What Allison does is confide in her friends the next day. Bender is a huge disappointment at first. He can't stop laughing at the idea of Allison as a doctor or lawyer. Brian eventually hushes Bender and asks, "How will you get a new application?"<p>

Still snickering, Bender says, "Easy, just have them mail it to me. You can use my address for everything."

She knew she could count on her friends.

* * *

><p>The next week is a busy one for Allison. Getting the transcripts sent takes more money than she expected, so her prize money comes in handy. She chooses 'Death Watch' as her piece to show for her application, completes the rough draft of her essay and then tries to figure out how to get a slide of her drawing. Her mother is out of town again, so Friday afternoon finds Bender, Allison and Brian on the patio with a phone book. Brian is searching for a photo shop that makes art slides, while Allison fills out her application form and Bender flips through Allison's daily sketchbook she carries everywhere.<p>

Finally Brian lays down the cordless phone. "I found it! Downtown Shermer, on Commerce Street. They say bring it in tomorrow and they can do it in two days."

Paying no attention to Brian's accomplishment, Bender exclaims "Hey, I'm in here," And indeed he is in the sketchbook, with his face softened by sleep, like that Saturday night she woke him after their movie. "Why do I look like that?"

"Look like what?" Allison asks.

"I look dorky, like I'm twelve years old."

Brian takes the sketchbook and looks. "This is great, Allison. It's just like him."

"You don't look dorky. That's how you look when you wake up."

"Why are you drawing me when I wake up?"

"Why not?" She has no real answer. She just felt compelled. Then that something inside her turns over again.

* * *

><p>Allison's father gets home from his business trip just a few minutes after she returns from the photo shop. Thank god he didn't see her carrying her portfolio. The photo shop says the slide will be ready on Monday afternoon. She and Brian can finish her essay and get the application off in the mail by Tuesday afternoon. Just in time, it will be post marked May 27.<p>

Now she has a problem. Tonight is their usual night for MTV and HBO, but this time Bender will want to come, not Andy. Her parents never said anything about Brian and Andy coming over. Literally. They never commented on the fact she had guests over or that one of them was her boyfriend. But would her father have something to say about Bender's appearance? Just when she thinks they have entirely forgotten they have a daughter, they break out in criticism or forbid random things. Last month her father decided she had a bedtime, sent her to her room at nine, and never enforced it again. He might not even notice Bender is there, or he might get the idea to forbid TV. She can never tell.

Fuck it, she decides. Her parents are so random, trying to predict them is pointless. If they forbid Bender or Brian visiting, she can just wait until they go out of town again.

So that evening, Allison greets Brian and Bender as usual. She's glad the den is so far from her father's study. Bender's impersonation of Cyndi Lauper gets pretty loud. Tonight there is a cop movie on HBO, and Bender falls asleep again. Allison suspects it's the doobage that tires him out, after his rush. She wakes him gently after the movie, and sees the guys to the front door.

Upstairs, folded into another yoga position, Allison reflects on her disobedience. The idea that she might be a doctor or lawyer is preposterous. But if her mother follows through on her resolution, she'll have no help with tuition or living costs if she is accepted to the Institute. Well, there are scholarships and loans, and she can get a part time job. She has completed the first step of the application process and everything is out of her hands until she hears back from the school.


	6. Bender in Bed

**Chapter Six**

**Bender in Bed**

With all her fuss about the application, Allison has slacked off on her usual studies and must scramble to finish her papers and study for exams. A week and a half later, all is complete. Her final grades are not too bad... three C's, a B in history and an A in biology. She should have gotten an A in art and Mr. Purdue knows it, but what can she do?

Bender barely makes graduation grades with C's and D's. Except in automotive science, where he earns an A as usual. Brian makes all A's, of course.

The last day of school is Friday, June 6. The earliest Allison expects to hear back from the Art Institute is June 10. She tries to calm herself and occupy her time with a new project. Her application packet said her portfolio should include at least one observational piece and one personal piece, plus an assignment from the college, to be announced.

Allison has a multitude of personal pieces she created outside of school assignments, but she finds observational art boring and her selection is poor. She will have to complete a new one. Of all observational art, she finds landscapes and still life the most stultifying. She rather enjoys figure drawing but has no access to models. So she chooses to do a portrait. She could do a self portrait, but rendering her own image in a strictly realistic manner doesn't seem much fun. That leaves Bender and Brian to pose, and she is sure Bender couldn't sit still long enough to be drawn, so that means talking Brian into sitting for her.

Allison is disconcerted when Brian says No. He is in an honors physics program this summer. He'll be busy all day with class and in the evening with homework. To her further surprise, Bender is quite positive about the idea of posing. They agree to work the first Wednesday after school lets out. By then, Allison has contemplated many poses for Bender. He probably doesn't realize how uncomfortable sitting perfectly still is. She finally decides to have him pose as if asleep, sprawled in her bed. That should be more comfortable.

Wednesday morning Bender appears, wearing the flannel shirt she requested. They go up to her bedroom (she is glad both of her parents are gone, who knows what they would make of this) and Bender gets in her bed. She has an odd feeling about that, but pushes it aside.

She asks him to lie half on his side, half on his stomach and props him up with pillows to make it more comfortable. Then she arranges his arms, again trying to make it comfortable. She's chosen to work in charcoal. She has her tools already set out and organized and begins immediately. The shirt she chose for him is difficult, the plaid collar folded and wrinkled. She works steadily for half an hour in silence. When she decides to let Bender take a break, she finds he has fallen asleep, so she continues working. She is almost done after two hours of straight work, when Bender wakes up. He rubs his eyes, obviously unsure where he is. Once he seems to have oriented himself, she quietly says, "I'm finished. Come see."

He stands behind her and looks at the picture on the easel. It is a realistic, unadorned rendition of his head and shoulders, as close to the original as possible.

"That's good, Al." They contemplate the picture for a while, then Bender says, "Your bed smells nice."

That strange feeling comes again. She starts gathering up her equipment, not looking at Bender.

"Thanks. I hope that wasn't too uncomfortable."

"No. I had a nice nap."

She looks up to see an odd expression on his face, unlike his usual sarcastic look. She decides it is due to just waking up and finishes putting away her tools.

"There's some Pepsi in the fridge, and I'll fix you a sandwich in a minute, after I've changed out of my work clothes."

He says, "Okay," then hesitates. She glances at him and he turns away, heading downstairs.


	7. The SAT

**Chapter Seven**

**The SAT**

All Allison can do now is wait. Things are rather boring with Brian doing his physics thing and Bender working with his uncle most days. With her parents gone so much, the majority of the housework falls on her shoulders, so she throws herself into house cleaning to help pass the time until she hears from the Art Institute.

Saturday afternoon Allison is scrubbing the vegetable bin from the fridge when the doorbell begins ringing, as if someone were leaning on it. Someone is leaning on it. It is Bender, who brandishes an envelope with a flourish.

"Your mail has come, madame."

A sound like a squeal escapes her and she snatches the envelope from Bender. But then she is shaking. Bender guides her into the living room and pushes her onto the sofa. Her hands are so unsteady she hesitates to open it.

Bender gets out his switchblade and snaps it open. "Let me." She relinquishes the envelope and he slits it open and returns it to her. She pulls out the sheet of paper.

_Dear Allison,_

_The Admissions Committee has carefully reviewed your application to the Art Institute. After much consideration I regret to inform you that we are unable to offer you a place in the Class of 1990 as your application stands. Your essay and pen and ink drawing are superior, but your low math SAT score, combined with average grades in academic subjects, do not allow us to accept you at this time. However, if you improve your math SAT score, we will be happy to review your application again. _

_We appreciate the interest you have shown in the Art Institute and look forward to hearing from you again. _

_Sincerely, _

_James D. Kingswood._

_Dean of Admissions and Financial Aid._

"Well?" Bender asks.

She sort of laughs and cries at the same time.

"Here, read it." She hands him the letter.

Bender reads it and folds it up.

"Well, all you have to do is pull up your SAT. They practically said they would accept you."

"I'm terrible at math!" Her hope turns to despair.

"But we happen to have one very smart guy around. Brian can teach you enough so that you can go in, spit it out while it's fresh in your mind, and then forget it for the rest of your life."

"Well, okay... Yeah, that might work. When is the next SAT?"

"We can call the tech college admissions office on Monday and find out. In the meantime, I have some mail too." Bender shows her a manila envelope she hadn't noticed in her eagerness to read her own letter. "Let's see what it is."

He unfastens the metal tabs, opens the flap and pulls out a heavy sheet of paper. He holds it up. It's his graduation diploma.

Allison gives him an exuberant hug.

* * *

><p>Brian is enthusiastic about tutoring Allison. He wants to start that very night, instead of watching MTV and HBO as usual. Bender vetoes this idea, but Allison agrees to start the next day.<p>

The next day both her mother and father are home, so Allison goes to Brian's house instead. She finds that with one-on-one tutoring she manages much better than in a big class. They start with very basic multiplication and division problems, move on to fractions and decimals and then begin algebraic equations. Mrs. Johnson asks Allison to stay for dinner. Sitting down with others to consume home-cooked food is a novelty, one that Allison enjoys. They have meatloaf, cauliflower in cheese sauce and hot rolls, with pound cake and strawberries for dessert. Mrs. Johnson seems to enjoy Allison's praise and hearty appetite. Brian wants to continue after dinner but Allison begs off. Her brain feels stuffed to overflowing with information, as if any additional information would cause her brains to leak out of her ears.

* * *

><p>The next SAT is Saturday, June twenty first, just a week away. Allison studies hard every day, then works with Brian in the afternoon. The evenings are spent reviewing the day's lesson. The only deviation from this is the traditional MTVHBO Saturday night.

In a shorter time than seems possible, it is time to take the SAT. Her nerves smooth out when she sees her test problems. The information pounded in by Brian is all at the top of her mind, ready to be used. She moves through the math portion quickly and confidently.

Bender and Brian are waiting for her when the test lets out. Bender sees her big smile and whoops, clapping her on the back. Her thanks to Brian are profuse and heart felt and make Brian blush. To celebrate, Bender shares his joint with both of them. They hoot and giggle all the way to Allison's house. A half hour later they devour two whole pizzas, Brian and Bender arguing over the last slice. In the middle of their raucous festivity, Allison's father comes home. They sober up and hush each other. As it happens her father chooses to ignore them, but all the fun is gone, so the guys take their leave.

Allison lies in bed with the radio on, relishing her evening. She hasn't thought about it in a while, but she recollects her pre-detention life of solitary hell. Life is so different now. She searches her mind for the fantasies she lived for in the old days, but comes up empty. Instead, she drifts on the last of the reefer, remembering random scenes from her new life. Andy appears and she relives their kisses, but their last argument intrudes. Instead, unbidden, comes the image of Bender asleep in her bed. She gets up to look at the portrait on her easel. She looks for a long time.


	8. Coochie

**Chapter Eight**

**Coochie**

After having worked hard all year, Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds take their annual trip to Barbados. Allison has never accompanied them. Until she was fourteen she had a babysitter for the duration, but now she is unsupervised. Life isn't much different for her, except she is saved from random intrusions into her independent routine.

Bender makes a habit of dropping by after work, sometimes bringing Chinese or sub sandwiches to share, but usually eating the frozen dinners Allison rustles up. Bender teaches her several varieties of poker, and they play darts out on the patio.

As much fun as she has in the evenings, the two weeks after the SAT grind by, every day interminable.

When Allison finds the SAT envelope in the mailbox on Saturday afternoon, she decides to wait to open it with her friends.

Bender and Brian arrive at five thirty and they order pizza. Then Allison withdraws the envelope from her pocket and shows it to them. She starts to peel back a corner of the envelope with a finger, but Bender stops her. He opens his switchblade for her and creates a drum roll as she slits the envelope neatly open. She extracts the page and reads aloud, "Math 2100." Their hoots and hollers and whistles threaten to overwhelm Allison's ears. She gives both huge bear hugs and kisses Brian's cheek.

Brian and Bender watch as Allison seals the fresh application form, essay and slide in the appropriate envelope, ready to go with proper postage and Bender's return address. She kisses it for good luck. She will walk it down to the post office first thing in the morning.

* * *

><p>The awaited letter arrives a week later. Bender delivers it on a Saturday afternoon again. This time, Allison is tired of suspense and jitters and rips it open before Bender even walks in the door. She scans the letter quickly and lets out a little squeak of pleasure.<p>

Bender leans over to get a look at the letter and puts his arm around her, laughing.

"Alright, Miss Reynolds! You're on your way!"

The letter informs her that she has passed the first part of the application process and should now send them a portfolio of no more than five slides, including at least one observational work and one personal work, as well as the enclosed assignment.

The assignment is simple. Create a work of art that includes a bicycle.

Allison files away the assignment, letting it percolate in her unconscious. Uppermost on her mind is the selection of a personal work. Her observational work is complete, the portrait of Bender. But she has many personal works to choose from. In another pen and ink drawing, she did a vagina surrounded by calla lilies. The similarity of shape between the flower and the vagina confuses the eye and at first it is hard to tell what you are looking at. But would this be too much even for an art school? Another idea to let percolate.

Thinking all of these things, she doesn't notice Bender's arm around her shoulders, guiding her into the house. When she does recollect herself, she realizes she is being rude.

"Bender, I need to work on this. You can hang out, watch TV or whatever. There's some left over Chinese, I think. Make yourself at home."

"Alright. I think I'll grab something to eat and hang on the patio. Don't worry about me."

Allison's mind has already turned back to her project. There is the calla lily drawing, a self portrait in oil pastels, a few other things. She goes upstairs and pulls out the self portrait. She did it the day of the breakfast club, her face surrounded by her parka hood, her mouth open a little. The fur was really hard. It's a strong piece. Now she gets out the calla lilies. This is a good one too. Her two best, easily. Should she send both? Or leave out the calla lilies?

While debating the wisdom of the calla lilies, her unconscious mind has dredged up the word "derailleur." That is part of the gear mechanism on a multi speed bike. Hmm. They have a ten speed in the garage. She goes down to look at it. The gear mechanism is interesting. Her inner eye starts framing the picture. Yes, that will work.

Inside, she finds Brian has shown up and the guys are sitting in the kitchen, playing poker.

"Bender, could you carry a bicycle up to my bedroom? Please?" She is being rude again. "Hi, Brian. Sorry, I'm sort of distracted."

Bender lays down his cards and says "Sure, where is it?"

Allison directs Bender to the garage. He easily hoists the bike onto his shoulder and she attends him upstairs, opening doors for him.

When she comes downstairs again, it's almost eight. She's been sketching for two hours. Only hunger was able to interrupt her concentration.

Bender and Brian are now eating pizza and watching some kind of action movie that involves many explosions. Allison grabs a slice and flops on the couch. Her neck muscles are bunched up and her back hurts. After wolfing down a second piece of pizza, she tries to massage her tight muscles.

"Let me," Bender says and takes over, his fingers kneading more effectively. Her tension unkinks and she relaxes, sighing. With a lessening of discomfort comes more awareness of her surroundings. Bender's hands are warm and something smells nice, woody and faint. It is Bender that smells so good. She's never noticed his scent before. Eventually Bender gives her shoulders a final pat and leans back. "Better?"

"Oh god, yes. That was wonderful." She turns to Brian. "Brian, I'm being awful. Hi, how are you? You guys having a good night?"

"Bender told me about your letter."

She can tell he understands. Of course he does, this is Brian Johnson and one thing he understands is academic performance.

Unable to stop herself, Allison starts telling them about the self portrait, the calla lilies, the derailleur sketch.

"Wait, you've drawn a vagina and want to submit it to the Art Institute?" Brian at least uses the proper word.

"Al has coochie on the brain. You should see the one in her sketchbook.," Bender says. "That's how she ended up in detention."

* * *

><p>Deceit and subterfuge must be used to get her slides for her portfolio. After much brainstorming, they decide her art work needs to be smuggled out. She can't risk one of her parents seeing her with them, and she never knows their schedules. Very early in the morning seems like a good time. Bender volunteers his bedroom as a storage area. Once the pieces are out they will have leisure to figure out getting them to the photo shop. Not too much leisure though; time is ticking and the sooner she gets her portfolio ready, the sooner she can move on with the application process.<p>

In the end it doesn't take long and now that she has the slides, she must decide whether to include the calla lily drawing. She had a slide made of it just in case. Finally she chooses to include it. She labels the slides correctly and mails them registered and insured.

More waiting. She's getting tired of waiting.


	9. The Art Institute

_AN: I have combined some chapters as they were very short, but it's all still there! Don't be confused by the numbering! _

**Chapter Seven**

**The Art Institute **

Once again, the letter arrives on Saturday afternoon and Bender delivers it without delay. His switchblade is employed and Allison opens the envelope. She carefully closes the knife and returns it before taking out several sheets of paper. A time and date pop out at her. She's got it! She's got an interview! She reads more carefully and it is that simple. They invite her to interview on July sixteenth at one o'clock. Enclosed are directions and a campus map.

"You ever been to Chicago?" Bender asks.

"Only Glenview, a suburb. My aunt lives there."

"I go to a record store not far from the Institute. I'll go with you."

* * *

><p>Allison has no idea what to wear to an interview of this sort. After much thought she decides her plain black dress is fine, but she must make it dressy. She spends more prize money on stockings, some low heels, bobby pins to help secure a French twist, and some ordinary make up. She can't wear black shit around her eyes for this.<p>

The day finally comes. Bender arrives to escort her at nine in the morning.

"You look nice, Al."

Bender looks pretty snazzy too, with clean, shined boots, a long sleeved black shirt with actual buttons and his hair slicked back.

They catch the bus to the Metra station, the Metra train into downtown Chicago, then another bus to the Art Institute campus. They arrive at 12:30, just in time to locate the admissions office.

After the interview is over, they go to a sandwich place Bender knows and he debriefs her. Allison thinks she did pretty well, after considering it. They asked questions about her artistic vision and theory, things she had given plenty of thought to over the years as her art grew and evolved. They also asked about the art works in her portfolio. There were some more general questions, an opportunity for her to ask them questions, then it was over. It took forty five minutes.

As the gravity of the situation wears off and her confidence grows, their outing becomes festive and exciting. Bender takes her to the record store (heavy metal), a coffee shop and a store that contains much black clothing and leather, and has bizarre straps on display in glass cabinets at the very back. Bender pulls her away from those displays, but not before she sees the selection of whips. She doesn't ask questions.

They get back to her house at about five and Allison sees her mother's car in the driveway. Her heart sinks. How will she explain her appearance? She pulls the bobby pins out of her hair and messes it up. That's all she can do.

"You'd better not come in," she tells Bender.

He surprises her, giving her a hug and kissing her hair. What an un-Bender thing to do.

She's in luck, her mother is in her study so Allison is able to slip upstairs to her room unseen, where she restores herself to her normal look.

Then she realizes. That's it. It's done. She has completed the application process. Now she will wait one more time, to hear their final decision.

* * *

><p>The next day is Saturday and the guys arrive for their usual pizza party. Her mother is at the kitchen table when Bender arrives, but she doesn't even look up from her magazine as they go to the den. So Bender is acceptable. For tonight at least. Her parents are so unpredictable and inconsistent.<p>

Her mother's presence dims their boisterous behavior, but nothing can dim Allison's good feelings about the interview.

* * *

><p>This time it takes less than a week. Thursday afternoon, Bender rings the bell. Feeling the gravity of the occasion, Allison invites him in, sits down and asks for his switchblade. Slowly she slits the envelope. Bender is leaning against the sideboard, watching. She removes several sheets of paper and looks at the top one.<p>

_Dear Allison,_

_It gives me great pleasure to inform you that the Committee on Admissions has voted to accept your application for admission to the Art Institute. I am happy to offer you a place in the..._

Allison bounds up, waves the letter, and rushes Bender for an ebullient hug.

"I got in! I got in!"

Bender catches her flying hug, lifts her off her feet and swings her around. When he sets her down, they are both laughing, and then somehow they are kissing. When they come up for breath, Allison's smile won't stop.

"I did it, Bender."

She kisses him again.

* * *

><p>Brian seems unsurprised by the latest developments when he arrives on Saturday night and finds the glowing Allison in Bender's arms.<p>

"I knew you'd do it," he says.

He means get into the Art Institute. Does he mean more than that? It doesn't matter. Allison has never been so happy in her life.


End file.
